Is this really a big problem?

I'm trying to understand this. For example:

Yes YOU Too Can Learn How To Stop Jezebel With Ease! Thousands already have learned these proven truths. With the knowledge in this book you can stop her in less than 24 hours. Take action today.

Has this man been tormented by a strong, confident woman? Or is he possessed by the spirit of a strong, confident woman? I'm missing something -- something apart from his transparent attempt to part me from my cash.

How much do you spend on food?

The Ellesiouville Times ran a Sunday story about the high cost of food. (I had noticed already the crazy high price of food all by myself, thank you very much.) This story focused, as such stories often do, on the lurid and sensational. A single mother of two children under five, receiving $315 in food stamps per month, told how her household was out of food half-way through the month and of her scramble to keep her children fed until the beginning of the next month.

Let's not be too critical of the food stamp program. I think quite highly of it when it is not abused. I put myself through college working the night shift as an unlicensed nurse's aid earning only minimum wage. There were a few months in my senior year when I relied on food stamps to keep me in biscuits. After those few months, I never applied for them again. (Thank you, fellow taxpayers, for helping me through that rough spot.)

Let's also not ask where the father of these two children is or what the extent of his contribution to the grocery budget is.

Let's figure out how much it should cost to feed a young mother and two preschoolers. In my household, we have two adults and one preschooler. This household is, I concede, run by two skinny, stingy bastards who suffered through too many years of graduate school. In those lean years, we could not afford to get more than one pizza topping. We avoided group dinner outings, in dread of the suggestion that "we just divide the bill by [N]." We learned how to cook, and we learned how to have fun without spending a dime -- the swings at the local park were our favorite place to go on a date.

Recently, prodded by the high cost of food, we challenged ourselves to see how little we can get by on in a month. According to the Angry spreadsheet, factoring the restaurant bill, our total food expenses per month average around $400. Despite occasional excesses, our meat consumption is minimal. We do a lot of shopping at discount groceries. We buy in bulk. We eat a lot of legumes and grains, the Angry Baker makes all our bread, and most of our grocery bill goes toward produce and dairy. Once every few months we have to spring for a 50 lb. sack of flour.

Young children cost next to nothing to feed. The Angry Kid could live on milk and peanut butter alone. Of our monthly bill, I generously estimate she is responsible for maybe $75 of it. (Most of that $75 goes for Parmigiano Reggiano.) We grownups cost, then, $162 each. Back to our single mother, one adult at $162 + 2 children at $75 = $312. (I didn't even try to make that work out like that.)

So what's the deal? I know that food has gotten much more expensive. Our food budget is up at least $100 a month. The young mother in the story claims she needs over $600 a month to feed herself and her children. If we were talking about teenaged boys, I could be sympathetic. Even if she buys processed food, I don't understand why her bill is so high.

(If you haven't seen it already, check out this comparison of monthly food budgets around the world.)

Mailbag Monday: Edition LOLScammers

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To: Angry Professor

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Ouch.

This is a picture of my right cheek completely covered by a pressure dressing. The eraser on the pencil is slightly larger than Doug was. I am astonished by the enormity of the incision that was required to eradicate all traces of him.

My plastic surgeon was fantastic. I wouldn't mind having carcinomas all the time, so long as he was the one to remove them.

In which I am grateful for a 15-page syllabus.

A student contacted me today three hours after missing a quiz. This student explained that he had certain health issues, and that he had felt bad this morning and passed out, only coming to after class (the quiz) was over.

The clear policy outlined in my syllabus made any skepticism on my part irrelevant. It was nice to be able to ignore Angry Professor, sympathize with the ill student, and point to the syllabus. Taking him at his word, I was also able to give some advice about making use of the Disability Office, which is something he hadn't considered but was clearly eligible for (if he was telling the truth).

I could have been Angry; instead I was helpful. Even though this was a disaster for the student, in the long run I think he got more out of the event and talking with me about it than he would have if I had just let him take a makeup quiz in violation of my policies.

Quarter system haiku.

My own sunny beach.
I make margaritas
Then wake up in pain.

My friends are finished
But I have class tomorrow.
They can kiss my ass.

The term stretches on
And on and on forever.
My brain is melting.

Happy Mother's Day!

The Angry Kid has her heart set on taking me someplace she loves for Mother's Day. I, on the other hand, had my heart set on Indian food. In an attempt to make everyone happy, the Angry Baker took us to a wonderful, tiny little Indian place for dinner tonight.

You'll notice that it's 7:30, and here I am blogging. (Cue the shark music.)

The Angry Kid began complaining of belly pain about five minutes before we headed out the door. We didn't believe her. We all piled into the car and headed to the restaurant. The kid fell asleep on the way there. (Shark music is getting louder.)

At the restaurant the kid cuddled on my lap, and we ordered food. At this point I still thought this was a hunger/pooping issue, and encouraged her to drink a little water. (Dum DUM dum DUM dum DUM...)

The food came, and oh my it was amazing. (Ellesiouville denizens, email me and I will tell you the hole-in-the-wall of which I speak.) I took one bite, and the kid started struggling in my arms, cheeks in the blowfish position. We rushed for what I hoped desperately was a restroom and, just a foot and a half shy of the door, she unloaded about a gallon of partially digested hot dog onto the floor. But she wasn't done: the second wave hit the wall next to the ladies' room door.

Our server came running out of the kitchen. I apologized profusely and asked him to pack up our meal. The only other diners were also parents; I apologized to them as well, but they just laughed. The Angry Baker was on his hands and knees for about 10 minutes scooping up blech with paper towels from the men's room. We left a very large tip.

Let me count the ways this is all my fault: 1) It was my idea to buy hot dogs for lunch from a roach wagon. 2) I didn't give up my dream of Indian food when she complained of feeling "really sick" at home. 3) I didn't give up my dream of Indian food when she complained of feeling "really sick" in the car. 4) I didn't give up my dream of Indian food when she complained of feeling "really sick" in the restaurant. I only got what I deserved.

Fiche-moi le camp.

Dear Angry Professor,

Do we need to know the Null and the Alternative Hypotheses for the exam or just the p-value?

Thanks,
Mia Depuis Longtemps

Dear Mia,

Please choose the option that best completes the following sentence: The information you requested

1. was provided in class on Monday.
2. was provided in class on Wednesday.
3. can be found in your syllabus.
4. can be found on WebCT.
5. (All of the above)

You're welcome,
Angry Professor

In which a student cares not what people think nor know about her.

I entered my lecture hall at 10 a.m. sharp this morning, mentally girding my mental loins for a lecture on the null hypothesis. As I tripped merrily down the stairs, I noticed that my students were uncharacteristically silent. What, I thought, could render this garrulous crowd completely silent? Did all 100 of them have hangovers? Were they all reviewing their notes?

Then a young woman who sits in the front row screamed, scaring the crap out of me. She was yelling into her cell phone, and the rest of the class had, apparently, been enjoying one side of the soap opera that is her life.

"I'm tired of cleaning up after you!" (Pause.) "I'm tired of you taking advantage of me!" (Pause.) "Just get up and go to class!" (Pause.) "Why do I have to do all the work in this relationship?" (Pause.)

I reached the lectern with what must have been an incredulous expression on my face, because the class broke their silence and began laughing. This, apparently, was the moment they'd all been waiting for. The young lady didn't seem to notice she was the center of attention (nor that she was being laughed at by 100 of her classmates).

"My class is starting now!" (Pause.) "I'm hanging up!" (Pause.) "I mean it, I'm just going to hang up." (Pause.) "You need to get out of bed and go to class!" (Pause.) "I'm hanging up now!" (Pause.)

I had to tell her to take it outside so that I could begin my lecture. She yelled into her cell phone all the way back up the stairs and out the door. Why are social science majors so odd?

It's because I'm so special.

Dear Angry Professor,

I missed the quiz last Tuesday. I was the person who came in late. I was late because I couldn't find a parking space. I know that you told us on the first day of class that we shouldn't ask for any favors and I signed the consent form, so you might think that I'm asking for a special favor but really I'm not.

I've never been late to class before because I have another class right before yours. But I skipped that class last Tuesday, and I didn't know that parking would be a problem at 10:00 a.m.. I really tried to be there on time. You can ask my friend Emily who sits right next to me in lecture and she can verify that I was really trying, because I gave her a ride in and dropped her off right before 10 so she took the quiz while I was still trying to find a parking space.

I really hope you will let me take a make-up quiz because I don't think the class rules should apply to me in this situation when I was trying so hard and getting a parking space was out of my control. It isn't unfair to give me a make-up quiz because the other people who missed it weren't trying as hard to get there as I was. I'd even be willing to do an extra-credit project, if that was ok with you.

Let me know what you think. I am available to take a make-up quiz at any time. You can call me at 123-456-7890.

Aloss Cawz

It's official.

In case anyone was wondering, Doug was squamous cell carcinoma. I think I'll get a gold stud to put in his hole. (I always wanted to get my nose pierced, but the Angry Baker wouldn't let me.)